In sickness and health
by Dorkout
Summary: Set in the time between the big reveal to the family and when the house succumbs to the Spanish flu. What if Tom had been feeling ill as well? Would Sybil play nurse? Would Tom be cheeky? A slightly fluffy, possibly smutty version of possible events. rated for lanuage and possible future chapters.


_This is set on the day after this big family reveal. The family knows of Sybil and Tom's plans. Downton has been quietly struck by the Spanish flu and the village is not immune. After watching that episode again with this Tumblr prompt in mind, I realized how probable it could be. The day after this fic happens, Robert pays a visit to Tom in his room, and it struck me how tired and down Tom seemed. Not his usual self, which could be attributed from stress of the situation, but he doesn't really seem like one to play into nerves in that, way so I thought it made sense if he was recovering illness. _

All she could hear was the sound of her shoes on the pebbled path. The constant _clop clop clop_ as she ran further away from the bright lights shining through the house windows. Deeper into the dark night her feet carried her with speed and energy she did not think she still possessed after this day. Away from the chaos, that was quickly becoming her home. Or _former_ home she should be thinking of it as, or would be quite soon. The panic and fear that gripped her heart was making it harder to breath with the pace she was keeping, but she had to see him. Had to make sure he was all right.

On his way out of Mama's room Clarkson had mentioned that a few of the villagers had also taken ill earlier that day. The look he gave her sent immediate chills down her spine. Of course, he had heard what happened the night before. The whole house was buzzing with the gossip of it, even though no one had right out said anything, she could feel their stares. Thomas looked so disappointed in her passing that she had almost forgotten her station and thought they were back in war times. Remembering herself, she had merely stared him right back until he remembered himself and diverted his eyes. There were only so many times she would still be able to use her influence in that way. After the morning with Papa, she had only so much patience left to give.

She hadn't seen Tom since they parted last night. He had his bags packed and had said goodbye to his cottage and livery, kissing her sweetly on the forehead with a whispered, "Come to me if you need to my love, I'll wait for you until you're ready. Id said we would do it your way and that is what I'll do, but I'll miss you every waking minute until you return to my arms." She'd been the center of attention for the rest of the night, Edith visiting her room and talking into the night about how the family had reacted. Mary was absent but Sybil put that to having Lavinia in the house, planning the wedding _she_ should be having with the man _she_ should have no less. Mary deserved a little time to herself. After barely sleeping both Papa and Granny had spent most of the morning trying to _persuade_ her.

Tonight, after everyone started coming down with flu symptoms Sybil had been in full nurse mode. Checking each person before Clarkson had arrived. Now that she was assured that he had everything in order, and with his subtle hint to her, she made for the village. Entering the Grantham Arms, she looked around hoping to find Tom at the bar with a pint and a smile, happily surprised to see her. Instead, it was eerily empty. She hurried up the stairs to the first room on the right, just as Tom had said and collected her breath, preparing herself for whatever may be behind the door. Knocking quietly she pressed her ear to the cold wood, hearing a soft, "What the _feck_ do you want?" Sybil tried the handle and finding it unlocked, slowly inched the door open and peeked in.

On the rumpled bed sat the most amazing sight her innocent eyes had ever encountered. Tom in his uniform had been tempting. Tom in his suit, offering to take the chair for the night on their failed elopement, had been swoon inducing. Tom without his shirt, pajama pants barely pulled up to his waist, tie hanging loosely having just been pulled on as he sat hunched on the bed was sinful. His hair was soft and hanging slightly over his forehead, clearly having just gotten up when he heard the door. His arms were tensed, displaying taught strong muscles beneath. Finally looking into his eyes Sybil saw pain reflected back at her. His forehead and chest glistened in the low candle light set on the desk near the bed and his eyes squinted, registering her presence.

"Sybil? What….why are you here? Are you alright?" He made to stand but the effort was too much. His muscles ached and his head felt near to splitting. Clarkson had seen him earlier and declared him "not as bad as some, but worse than others" and suggested that he take the day and rest. There wasn't much else he had to do anyhow besides wonder how Sybil was getting on at the house after last night. He thought he was just nervous and then angry after the way her family reacted, contributed his upset stomach and sweating to the situation at hand. Never could he have guessed Spanish flu. He hadn't been able to keep anything down and had been too hot keep anything more than a thin sheet covering him most of the day. He was just contemplating the effort it would take him to fetch the bowl of water on the desk and a rag to cool himself off. He had almost decided to give up on the whole endeavor when he became out of breath from pulling on his bottoms. Even tying them had been too much of a bother. The knock at the door had confused him, who would be paying a visit this late at night? And then she came in, like an angel. The joy and contentment he got from just being in her presence was a soothing balm to his soul. It was like nothing bad could happen as long as she was around. Quickly his joy turned to worry, why was she here? Had her family actually cast her out? Had she cast them? They had agreed to do this with the least damage possible. She would burn her bridges but she wasn't going to collect the tinder to start them going. The pain was too much for her to bear and he couldn't bear to see her in pain, so they had decided to do it her way. However, her being here, something had to be wrong.

"I'm alright but I was so worried about you. Now I see I was right to come. Why didn't you phone me?" she finished with her last good puff of adrenaline. "I didn't want to worry you, love, or risk the chance of getting someone else on the line. Clarkson has been and says it's not serious but damn, this sure as hell doesn't feel like I'm being rewarded for good behavior. Perhaps your dad is getting his wish and you'll be free and clear in a few hours." He finished with a groan, flopping back onto the bed. She moved to close the door and rushed to his side, helping him to lay his legs flat and pulling the sheet over him. Feeling his feverish brow, she clucked her tongue at him.

"Well I'm here now so let's see if I can't make it a little easier for you. And you really shouldn't speak like that Tom. Inviting the wrath of God down on us and implicating my father as the cause of Spanish flu seems a touch unfair, even if he does deserve it." She looked down at him, his eyes closed and face set in a grimace. After she finished speaking she could see the side of his mouth quirk up into that knee-weakening smirk he seemed to always have in place around her. "Oh but my darling, there's no one here to take the switch to me but you. You wouldn't beat a man when he's down now would you?" He opened his eyes, slowly reaching up to grab her wrist, rubbing circles using his thumb around the base of her palm. She felt a tingle race up her arm and reach down into her core; tightening something within her she didn't quite understand but knew that Tom did. She also knew that he was in no state to be behaving this way and had never been this bold with her before, the fever must have reached his brain, she thought with a small laugh.

"Behave Mr. Branson or I may have to use the switch on you, and I promise, you _won't_ like it. Now have you eaten anything?" she finished, standing up, hands on hips, every inch the nurse in action. "Oh, don't mention food, I don't think I can handle anything just now. If you would like to help can you maybe bring me a wet cloth, this damn…sorry this awful fever has got me sweating like a…well, let's just say I'm not the buttoned up Branson you're used to, _milady_." He watched her narrow her eyes on him but let him get away with his cheekiness as she made her way to the desk and the bowl of water that was sat there by the Inn staff that morning. He watched her remove her gloves and jacket, setting them on the chair and dip the clean washing cloth into the bowl. She slowly rang it out, water dripping off her delicate fingertips and Tom felt himself harden beneath his sheet. Sweet lord, she really didn't know how much of temptress she was. Her hair was all askew; most had come undone from her pins. She looked like she ran the whole way over judging from the state of her skirt and the flush to her soft cheeks. Or maybe she flew over, being the angel she was.

Sybil looked over her shoulder at Tom on the bed, he looked so pitiful. His attempts at being endearing had worked but it wouldn't do to let him know just how much he affected her, not this early on anyways. She drew her shoulders up and felt finally in control for the first time that day. This was where she belonged. Where she felt she completely fit in, taking care of Tom. Being his partner in all things. Returning to the bed she felt a renewed sense of rightness as she gently wiped his forehead. Pushing his damp hair aside, she took the opportunity to study his features close up. She noticed small details she hadn't seen before tonight. He had several patches of freckles dotting underneath his eyes reaching from the bridge of his nose out towards his ears. They were so faint you couldn't tell unless you were as close as she was now. She wondered how many others had come this close to him. No bother, she was the only one who would see them from here on out.

With that thought firmly in place she continued to cool his fever by taking the cloth around the back of his neck. He began making soft almost animal like noises in the back of his throat as she continued with her ministrations. It was such a cute sound she left the cloth wrapped around his neck, as he seemed to enjoy it. "Can I get you anything else?" she asked as his eyes started to lift to hers. She was sat on the edge of his bed, improper though it may be; she felt they were past all that now. He reached for her hand placed in her lap, sensing what he wanted she lifted hers to meet his half way. He pulled her down into him. She stopped herself from falling by placing on hand on the bed while the other was clutched between them, resting on his damp chest.

"Stay wit' me, love." He said in his thick Irish brogue. She gave him a stern look, reminding him of their agreement. All the "details" he had said were fine to put off until they were properly wed. He was now fully regretting his quick consent to her terms. But he couldn't deny her anything. He only hoped it worked both ways. He just wanted a few hours of the comfort he associated with her presence. The calming effect she had already had on him in the short time since she came in was making him feel almost better, if not finally sleepy. He hadn't realized how worried about her he was until he saw her safe and no worse for the wear. Looking into her eyes, he tried to remember the face that always melted his Mam. The one that got him an extra biscuit when she knew Kieran had taken his, or when his older brother had been pushing him around but he was too proud to tattle. That look had saved him a number of times; being the youngest, it was always good to have one of those looks in your back pocket for times like this. Putting on his best effort, he willed her to stay, just to comfort him and share a few hours lying beside him. Hopefully he could get some sleep. He could feel that the coming day would be a hardship for them both.

Taking one look at his boyish expression almost set Sybil to cooing like a lovesick fool, but she kept it together. She felt her insides melt and decided that they were a modern couple on the verge of setting out on their own to brave to unknown with no one but each other for support. If he was needing support now, who was she but his partner and _soon to be lover?_ "I have to be gone in the morning before anyone notices I've been away." She said as he scooted over to make room for her on the bed. Kicking off her shoes, she reached to pull the sheet over herself and settled into his side. "I'm not hurting you am I? I can sleep in the chair, you know." She said looking up at him, grin firmly in place. "Don't you dare move, love." He said, placing a soft kiss to her wayward curls.

Hearing his breathing even out, she was able to finally feel some relief. She rested her head onto his firm shoulder, feeling his arm wrap firmly around her. His fever had gone down and he wasn't showing any of the other signs to indicate a progression in illness. With any luck, he had been though the worst of it, and a few hours sleep would do him good. Closing her eyes, she felt the exhaustion of the day finally catch up to her and began to drift into a restful slumber.

Tom couldn't remember waking up to a more beautiful morning. Testing his headache, he craned his neck down to look at the angel lying peacefully in his arms. He had hardly any pain and was pleased to discover his appetite had returned. Perhaps he'd be able to consume something more than milk with cinnamon for the first time in two days. Hearing Sybil's soft lady-like snoring made him laugh silently to himself. He wondered if she even knew she snored? How would she though, having never shared a bed with anyone? His stomach grumbling seemed to jolt her from whatever sweet paradise she had been dreaming of. Groggy doe-like eyes gazed up at him, squinting in the early morning sunrise streaming in from the window. "How are you feeling? You don't feel feverish anymore. I think that means you're officially on the mend. If your stomach is any indication. My goodness is that something I'm going to have to get used? All of those loud male sounds?" she finished with a sheepish look. Clearly babbling and a bit uncomfortable at waking up in a man's bed, he felt a very protective urge to gather her up and smother her with kisses.

Splitting his face into an ear-to-ear toothy grin, Tom just looked at her before rolling her onto her back and attacking her all over with big sloppy kisses. She felt those perfect lips marking her checks, nose, eyes and jaw as she giggled with pure glee. Tom was making more of those very "male sounds", almost seeming to gobble her up like an evil villain in a fairy tale. "Ok, I get it! You're feeling better! Now let me up. I've got to get back." She gasped out as she attempted in vain to fight him off. Landing one last loud smacking kiss to her smiling lips Tom flung himself onto his back and released his now blushing almost bride. Sybil put her shoes on and stood taking stock of her appearance in the small wall mirror. Trying and failing to pat her hair into some semblance of control she turned to look at her rumpled fiancé lying leisurely on the bed, one hand supporting his head as he watched her get ready. "I'm prescribing you more rest today. I'll be at the house on duty probably most of the day so I don't know when I can see you again but I expect you to take care of yourself."

"I never thought to ask, how was everyone at the house? You looked near to panic when you came in, I can only assume the flu has taken over Downton as well?" He said looking at her pinning her hair away from her face. "It has. Mama and Lavinia had taken ill during dinner and Carson and two maids when I left were ordered to bed for rest, but no one has become too serious. I just want to be helpful, even if Papa doesn't approve of much about me, my skill as a nurse is a proven asset. I can even provide references if needed from my most improved patient." She finished with her hair and turned back to him. She bent down to him lying on the bed and placed a chaste kiss on his waiting lips. As their lips touched, she felt him urge her to something more. As much as the flare of passion ignited in her when he coaxed her to open her mouth and accept him in, she knew the lateness of the hour. Ending it before it could get out of hand; she dropped one last kiss to his now cooled brow. "I'll be waiting here my darling girl, as soon as you're ready to truly become my wife, I'll be here." He would wait as long as she wanted, after as many years as he already had, a few more days or weeks was nothing. He could leave now, and she would go with him, but he could see how much her family meant to her. Therefore, he would wait. They would come around.

As she strode to the door, she looked over her shoulder and gave him one last parting smile he could feel strengthening him in his still weakened state. A softly spoken "In sickness and in health, Mr. Branson," left him alone and thankfully on the mend.


End file.
